The Letter
by Justasmalltowngirl2713
Summary: Chris Evans/OC. When Becky enlists in the army, she leaves Chris behind a letter that will change both their lives forever.


I don't really know what made me do it. There was the fact that my father had died fighting for his country, but I hadn't even known him all that well. Was I trying to live up to him? Maybe it was because it would make my mother proud. I think that's the reason I actually did it, to be honest.

The only other time she'd ever been proud of me—I'll never forget it—was when I came home after career day in the seventh grade and told her that maybe joining the army wouldn't be so bad. It sounded pretty exciting for a twelve-year-old kid. Traveling to dangerous places, fighting the bad guys, saving the day—well, I wasn't much of a girly girl. My mom smiled at me and said that if I ever enlisted, she would be so proud of me. Not what you'd expect to hear from your mother, but it worked for me. She'd never so much as congratulated me for anything, so to hear this from her? This was big.

My best friend, Chris, thought it was ridiculous. His mom, Mrs. Evans, had told me to follow my dreams, but I remember Chris shot her a death stare. "Becky, promise me you won't do anything stupid like that. What if I lost you?"

I chuckled at the memory as I finished packing my small duffle bag. Chris had always been so overprotective of me. To this day, he was still my best friend. Sometimes it amazed me that he never noticed the fact that I'd been in love with him since…well, since as long as I can remember. I've known him since I was four years old, and I've loved him ever since. You'd think I would have told him by now, seeing as I was thirty-one. I'd dated, of course, but it never lasted. One of my exes even told Chris to his face that the reason he broke up with me was because I was too in love with Chris. Chris never believed him, but it _was _the truth.

I shook my head, trying not to focus on those feelings. I shoved one last t-shirt into my bag and zipped it up. I was only allowed to bring the necessities, because they'd be confiscated pretty shortly, anyway. I had actually done it—I had enlisted in the US Army. After several weeks of training, I was being shipped out to Afghanistan. The idea scared me, but I knew this would happen—I made this choice. I had to do this, no matter the outcome.

"_You did _what? _Is this a joke?_" _Chris shouted at me as we sat in the living room in his apartment._

"_I enlisted, Chris. You knew this was my dream. Can't you just support me in this?" I asked, nearly shouting at him. The look of pure outrage on his face was breaking my heart._

"_What if you get _killed, _Becky? What am I supposed to do then? I can't lose you, Beck, I love you too much." I flinched at the words, fully aware that he meant as a sister, not in the way I hoped._

"_I'm not doing this to hurt you, Chris. It's what I want—and if you can't support that, fine." I stood up off the couch and marched out of the apartment, the tears falling down my face._

I hadn't talked to Chris since. It was the longest we had ever gone without speaking, and it had taken its toll on me. He was currently shooting the Avengers, and I had asked his mom if she could get me on set to say goodbye. I was meeting her there in an hour. Afterwards, I'd head right to the airport.

I grabbed my bag and picked up the letter I had stuffed in my nightstand a few days ago. I didn't know how things would turn out overseas. I wasn't even sure if I'd ever come back—so I wrote Chris a letter. It was stupid, I was fully aware, but if something _were _to happen to me…well, he deserved to know.

I got in the car and drove over to the set, which fortunately I lived near. Mrs. Evans was waiting in a nearby parking lot, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

"Hey, Mrs. E," I said, jumping out of the car, my letter in my back pocket. "What's the matter?"

She pulled me into a hug and cried into my shoulder. "Becky, a-are you sure you w-want to go through with this?"

I smiled, pulling away and rubbing her arm. "I'm positive, Mrs. Evans. Everything's going to be ok, you don't have to worry." She sniffled, giving me a sad smile, and led me on set.

After a few different security checks, we meandered our way towards Chris' trailer, where he was standing with his new girlfriend, Rachel. I had heard about her from Tom Hiddleston, who I knew from Avengers pre-production. I had gone with Chris to a few different voiceovers and such, and had actually become good friends with the British actor.

Rachel was supposedly an Abercrombie model who was _much _younger than Chris. It didn't surprise me, though—Chris had _plenty _of girlfriends when we were growing up. Though they were always sweet, I never really found any of them his type. I may have been slightly biased, however.

"Come to say goodbye?" a British voice asked from behind me, and I turned to see Tom, fully decked out in his Loki costume.

"That was the plan, but he seems…busy. He doesn't know I'm leaving today."

Tom put a hand on my shoulder, a look of concern covering his face. "Want me to go grab him for you?"

I looked back over at Chris, who was smiling and poking Rachel's nose. They both laughed and he picked her up and spun her around. It was weird seeing him—I hadn't seen him in a couple months. We hadn't talked since our fight, and while I had been miserable at the lack of communication, he seemed to be doing just fine.

"Nah, I—I think I'm just gonna go," I said with a sigh, and as Tom began to protest, I held up a hand. "He's happy. I don't want to ruin that. But I need to ask you a favor."

Tom's face fell serious and he nodded. "Anything."

I pulled the folded up letter out of my back pocket and sighed, the tears threatening to fall out. "If—if something happens to me, Tom," I said. He began to shake his head, but I held my hand up again to silence him. "If something _happens _to me, Tom, I want you to give him this. Don't read it—just give it to him. And if I come back home safe and sound, just get rid of it. But…just in case," I whispered, thrusting the letter into his hand.

"I hope you're making the right decision," Tom murmured in reply and I nodded, reaching up to hug him. I pulled away, glancing over at Chris one last time, and walked off the set.

* * *

**~Chris POV~**

She lasted a week.

She had only been in Afghanistan a _week, _and her camp was bombed. She died immediately, they had said. Quick and easy. Painless.

Painless for who? Not me.

I sat in the back row at her funeral; watched the closed casket, an American flag draped over it, roll up the aisle. I remember when I was a kid, and I'd imagine her walking down it, happy and alive, and I'd be standing at the altar, waiting for her to reach me.

And look how that turned out.

The last time I had talked to her, we'd fought—and not just like our normal fights. I had _shouted _at her, screamed things I didn't mean. The last thing I ever said to her was that I loved her too much—which was true. I always had. I mean, how do you not fall in love with your best friend? Becky and I had been close since I was a toddler. I was always too much of an asshole to admit my feelings to her, but I figured I'd get my chance.

But there she was, lying in a casket. My chance was gone.

I don't remember much from the funeral—her mom had asked me to say a few words, but I couldn't. I was too much of an asshole—too afraid I'd cry or wouldn't do her justice. I sat in the back row, my head in my hands, until everyone cleared out but her mother. They were about to roll her dead body away, but I finally walked to the front of the church and asked them to stop. Everyone left, leaving me all alone with the body of the only woman I'd ever truly loved.

I stood in the aisle, looking over the casket. I wiped the tears away from my face and took a deep breath. "Hey, Beck," I mumbled, my voice breaking. I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head. "Becky, why didn't you say goodbye? Didn't I deserve more than this?"

I walked forward, resting my arm on the casket and leaning my head down. "Goddamn, Becky, I love you so much," I whispered, starting to cry again. "I'm sorry I was such an asshole. I should've told you. I should've _goddamn _told you."

I stood up straight, wiping my eyes off one last time. "I love you, Becky." I turned around, leaving the Church. I nodded at her mother, knowing that if I opened my mouth, I wouldn't even know what to say.

There were only a few cars left in the parking lot—a few people mingling around. As I opened the front door to my car, a hand on my shoulder stopped me. "Hey, mate, I'm sorry for your loss."

Tom Hiddleston stood behind me, a pained expression on his face. I nodded at him, not meeting his worried eyes, and gripped the top of my door harshly. "Becky…she asked me to give you this." He handed me a crinkled envelope with Becky's cursive on the front—'To Chris.'

I nodded at him again, the corner of my mouth nearly slipping up into a slight smile at the small piece of her in my hands. Tom clapped me on the shoulder one last time and walked away. I sat down in the drivers seat and opened the envelope to find a piece of loose leaf covered in her handwriting.

_Dear Meatball,_

_If you're reading this…I guess it's a farewell. You know I'm not good with goodbyes. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if I don't actually get the nerve to talk to you when I come to the set next week. We haven't talked since our argument over my enlistment, and it's been killing me. I pray to God that if you're reading this, those aren't the last words you ever heard from me. I severely doubt they will be, but in a war, you never know._

_First of all, give Tom a big hug and thank him again for me. He was a sweetheart to accept such a request. Even though I'm writing this before I ask him to give it to you, I know he'll have a hard time with it. Anyone would—but I felt if you received this from Tom, it would be easier._

_The reason I'm writing you this, Chris, is because you deserve to know something—something that's been bugging me since we were four years old. I should've told you years ago, but there was always something holding me back. So, if this letter really is my goodbye, you have to know that I have always loved you. Not the way I usually mean—I'm _in _love with you, Chris. I always have been. I've said those three little words to you thousands of times, and I always pretended it was a brotherly love, but it never was. I've always loved you, Chris—I wouldn't be surprised if you already knew. It wasn't like I was overly secretive about it—most people could tell right away. I always wondered if you actually _did _know, but just didn't want to say anything. I never told you because I didn't want to risk our friendship—if you didn't feel the same way, like I had feared, then I would lose you for good, and that wasn't something I could risk._

_Maybe I came home safely and we're happily married. Maybe I came home to find _you _happily married. Maybe we have adorable children. Maybe I'm the godmother of one of _you'r_e adorable children. Maybe you'll never have to read this letter. But if you are reading this, know that whatever of the above scenarios came true, if any, I would have been so happy to stand by your side, as a lover or a friend, forever. If a friend was all you would ever see me as, I still would've been overjoyed, because I meant something to you. You will forever be my best friend, Chris—no matter what happens._

_I love you more than you'll ever understand—and if this really _is _our goodbye, I hope you live the happiest life and always remember me as your best friend. Know that I'll always be watching you from my spot up in Heaven, waiting for you to come join me._

_Love always,_

_Becky_

I am the biggest asshole that has ever existed.


End file.
